My Uncle Earnest DidIt always says that “if you have nothing to say, then say nothing”.
Now this is easy for him to say, as he never has had anything worth saying. In fairness to the old trout, he is a Man of Action, not words. I have often wondered that if Earnest had actually managed to unearth an in interest in anything other than sex and the pursuit of other peoples’ money to support his foul habits, how he would have tackled something as tricky as being an Arsenalic during a Summer Lull.
Let’s face it, like most, he would be sitting somewhere in one of three camps entering the silly season.
In the Camp Doom, there was history on their side, which said that we will only spend what we earn from player sales. For these Doomsters, a bleak summer looked inevitable, as there was no obvious high value assets that wanted to “win things” and require fresh pastures.
Then, in Camp Chaos, there was the possibility of a Boardroom Power Struggle, with Usmanov grabbing an extra share or two with the ensuing fur and toupes flying.
Finally, Camp Whatever, or the “Que Sera, Seras”. A boringly mature troupe here, who prefer to deal in reality, and fuss not about matters beyond their control.
Where do I reckon Earnest would slot in? My gut feeling would be “None of the above”, rather “I actually don’t give a shit about anything apart from turning up on match day, getting ripped to the tits with my mates, watching a cracking game, then going home with a Goonerette on each arm”. Yip, two, as even in his eighties, he is a ferociously fertile man.
Him, not me, speaking. We are very loosely related you understand.
Written by MickyDidIt for a very quiet Friday